


The Hidden Path

by alexcat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ardor in August, Gen, M/M, Sultry in September
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: This is for the Slashy Santa 2017 summer/fall challenge.Many thanks to Ignoble Bard for the beta, the title and his great suggestions.~~~~





	The Hidden Path

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_lasbelin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_lasbelin/gifts).



> This is for the Slashy Santa 2017 summer/fall challenge. 
> 
> Many thanks to Ignoble Bard for the beta, the title and his great suggestions.
> 
> ~~~~

_Still 'round the corner there may wait_  
A new road or secret gate;  
And though I oft have passed them by,  
A day will come at last when I  
Shall take the hidden paths that run  
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.  
~ Roads Go Ever On, J.R.R. Tolkien

~~~

Erestor had loved Gildor for more years than he could count and yet the actual time he spent with his lover was only a drop in the bucket. Gildor was a gypsy, meandering wherever the road took him. He sang and danced with his band of fellow vagabonds as they wandered through Middle-earth. Little escaped his sharp notice and he was ever a source of information for the king. No one asked his sources, knowing that they might not want to know, even if he were inclined to tell them. 

Erestor had traveled on occasion with Gildor. He was amazed at the way Gildor could change from advisor to the king to a simple caravan leader who sang and played for his supper in an instant. He’d been a merchant, a healer, a spy, a tinker and so many other things. Erestor wondered once in a while if he really knew the real Gildor and which one the real one was. Or if they all were real. 

He had heard from Círdan that Gildor was expected home any day. He’d cleaned his rooms and cleaned the library and cut his hair and found new robes and, oh, he couldn’t wait to see his lover. It had been three years since they’d last seen one another. 

Three years! 

Would he come to Lindon? Would they stay in the Havens? Would they travel? Would Gildor stay more than one day? 

He’d never been so nervous! He was like a bride greeting a husband that she’d never met, only heard stories about.

“Sit down!” Gil-galad said. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor. He will be here when he gets here. It is always such with Gildor, is it not?” His words sounded harsh but his voice was soft. “You worry needlessly, as always. He will come and he will have eyes only for you, as ever. I wish that I had a love like yours, my friend.” He poured himself a glass of wine and one for Erestor. 

Erestor nodded his thanks to the king. 

Later in the day, just before the sun began to sink low in the western sky, Erestor heard music from far away. 

Gildor was here! 

The caravan made its way into the city a few minutes later. Erestor had forced himself not to grab a horse and ride out to meet them. Thirty or more elves came into sight, walking, riding prancing horses and in wagons and carts. Gildor was in the largest wagon, driving a pair of white horses that gave lie to his poor wanderer status. They were both Mearh, twin mares given to him by the king himself. Such horses were usually reserved for royalty but Gildor was a cousin to the king, so Gil-galad had reasoned. And being the king, his word was usually the last word.

Erestor hurried out to greet them. 

Gildor had never been one for decorum and now was no exception. He hopped down from the wagon and grabbed Erestor, hugging him tight and swinging him around in a circle and kissing him quite soundly at the same time. 

“Gildor!” 

“What?” He laughed. “You think they don’t know?” He kissed Erestor again.

Erestor gave in and kissed him back. 

“It has been way too long, my love!” 

“You are always welcome to stay.” 

“I always mean to but after a few days, my feet get itchy and my mind begins to wonder what is happening out there. I simply can’t help myself.”

Erestor smiled. “I know, my darling. It is one of the things I love about you.” 

They went inside, to the king’s study. Gil-galad offered them both a glass of wine and had refreshments brought for Gildor. 

“Do your people want to camp? If so, I have the garden cleared for them. If they’d like to stay inside, there are plenty of rooms in the west wing for them,” Gil-galad offered.

“They’ll camp. Most of us wouldn’t know how to sleep in a room with walls.” 

“And you will stay with me?” Erestor asked Gildor.

There was a wicked twinkle in Gildor’s eyes. “About that…”

“What?” 

“We might be taking a trip.”

Erestor’s heart pounded. He had been on a few trips with Gildor, some were the king’s business and some were for pleasure. One thing was always true: the trips were exciting. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Elrond has his home finished in Imladris and since the autumn has come, I thought we might visit him.”

Erestor noticed that Gil-galad went very quiet as Gildor talked and wondered what was going on that he didn’t know about. He knew it would do no good to ask either elf now, but he would ask Gildor later, when they were alone. 

Instead of feasting at the king’s table that night, everyone gathered out in the gardens. Gil-galad had tables set up all over the green. His kitchens outdid themselves with delicious meats, breads, vegetables and desserts for every taste. Wine and ale flowed freely, as well as a bit of the king’s own brandy for a select few. 

After dinner, the wandering minstrels readied themselves to pay for the king’s hospitality. They cleared a huge circle in the middle of the green and they all grabbed instruments and began to play various songs from all over Middle-earth. They played the fast dance tunes of the Hobbits first, drawing the elves out to the center of the green to dance to the lively music. There were jigs and hornpipes as danced by men and elves for many years. 

The king was the first one to begin dancing, choosing one of the women of the caravan to dance with. Erestor remembered her from previous visits, having seen her slipping out of Gil-galad’s chambers early in the morning more than once. 

Círdan danced with the young apprentice who helped him build the tall ships in the shipyards at the Havens. The young elf had eyes only for his teacher. Erestor smiled. The old elf deserved whatever happiness he could find. He had sacrificed much over the millennia for the good of all elfkind. 

Gildor handed his fiddle to one of the other elves to play and made his way over to Erestor. 

He raised an eyebrow and grinned as he asked, “Care to dance, Master Erestor?” 

They were soon bowing and dancing a jig to the fast-paced music. After several sprightly tunes, the minstrels began to play a slower music. The couples moved into two lines and danced the more formal pavane. Later still and with more wine consumed, the couples danced slowly in one another’s arms. 

Dawn was not far from the sky when the last musician laid down his instrument and the last dancer slipped away into the night. The last elves on the green doused the fires and the lamps and headed for their own beds, leaving the cleaning for the light of day. 

Gildor and Erestor had gone to Gildor’s wagon on the outer rim of the tent city. They were not yet asleep when the sun rose a bit later but neither of them noticed until they heard someone calling to them from outside.

“Master Erestor, the king is calling for you and Master Gildor,” a young page said nervously.

“Tell his majesty that we shall be there presently,” Erestor called as Gildor sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

“No sleep for the wicked?” Gildor asked with a wink.

“Not a wink. It’s all your fault, too.” Erestor pushed him back on the bed in the back of the wagon. 

‘Presently’ was a relative term and they arrived at Gil-galad’s table a few hours later, looking like they’d been up all night, and for good reason. They had. 

“Did you get my message?” Gil-galad asked dryly.

Erestor blushed but Gildor was not daunted in the least by the king. “We were otherwise occupied at the time. We decided to finish what we’d started.”

Gil-galad grinned and shook his head. “I believe you. I called you here for a reason. I would like you to go to Imladris and see how Elrond fares in his new home.” Just as Gildor had said. 

Erestor knew that something was up but he also knew that Gil-galad loved secrecy and that he would never know unless Gildor decided to tell him. Gildor had his secrets as well, as Erestor had learned long ago. He simply would not answer some questions, no matter how much probing Erestor did. 

“Check up on Elrond?” Erestor asked, just to see what the king would say.

“He is more stubborn than you know and even though he has been an adult these many, many years, I still feel some responsibility for him, since he grew up here with me,” Gil-galad told them both and that did seem to be the end of the discussion. 

A few days, and several meetings with the king, later (some just Gildor and Gil-galad), they set off for Imladris. Erestor was more excited than he let on to Gildor or the king. He had never been to this new home of Elrond’s before. 

“Have you been there?” he asked Gildor as they rode out of Mithlond to begin their journey. Gildor estimated it would take them at least a fortnight to get to Imladris.

“Yes, we travel through as often as we can. It is as beautiful as it is hidden. Now that the autumn is here, it should be quite a sight to see.” 

The roads were easily traveled as they rode together on Gildor’s fine horses. Erestor told stories of life with Gil-galad while Gildor told of his adventures in lands near and far. 

“Why do you do it?” Erestor asked, not for the first time. 

They were nearing a village of men. 

“Travel?” Gildor laughed. “What else would I do?” 

“You could live with me.”

“I would love to, but I would not be very good company after a few weeks.” 

“But why?” Erestor really did want to know why his lover seemed to be incapable of staying in one place.

“I am cousin to the king as I am cousin to Lady Galadriel and I traveled here across the ice.”

Erestor reached over and squeezed Gildor’s arm. No elf spoke often of the trip across the Helcaraxë. It was a time of suffering and loss that no one wanted to recall in detail. 

“I stayed with Círdan once we had come to the Havens but I was never happy there. I had a desire and a need to see this land, to travel all over it and explore it. I have some talents that are useful to me in this life. I can play and sing anything. You know this to be true. I also have a knack for finding out things. People talk to me, never realizing how much they’ve said. I am a good spy for this reason and because I can blend in. Sometimes people do not notice me and if they do, they seem to remember no details about me.” 

“So you’re a singer and a spy?” Erestor raised an eyebrow.

“I am good with a knife as well. I can defend myself, if need be.” 

An odd thought occurred to Erestor and before he thought, he asked, “Are you an assassin then?” 

Gildor did not answer for several long moments. “I have been on occasion.” 

Erestor was speechless. He’d asked in jest, hadn’t he? 

“I am no kinslayer, if that is what you are thinking. Servants of the darkness, vile creatures who would do harm to the king or his people, they are my targets.”

They had come to the village by now so the conversation stopped. As they got down off their horses, a tiny little girl offered Erestor flowers. He thanked her and took the little bouquet with a flourish. 

He and Gildor asked if there was a boarding house or inn that they might use for the night. The little one’s father sent them to a cottage down the lane. The little old woman there had a room for a few coins. The inn was clean and homey so they decided to stay there. 

“Ye must eat wi’ me as well,” the woman said, “as it’s a part of what ye paid for.” 

Erestor was a little skeptical but Gildor smiled and asked what time she required them to be there for dinner. Erestor handed her the flowers and said they’d make a pretty decoration for the table. She nodded and put them in a small drinking glass. They looked lovely as she set them in the middle of her little wooden table.

Despite Erestor’s misgivings, the meal they had was delicious. It was thick, hearty stew with potatoes, carrots, onions and many more vegetables along with tender morsels of meat, probably chicken, Erestor decided, from the flavor. They had crusty homemade bread with butter and a choice of honey or several jams as well. The ale was as good as the food and Erestor and Gildor both ate until they were uncomfortably stuffed.

While they ate, Gildor talked, asking and answering questions. 

Their hostess was named Estrith. She was a widow with nine grown children in the village. The little girl with the flowers had been her great-granddaughter, Agenilda. Many of the villagers were her kin and she was the oldest woman in the village. 

She remembered wars and death, early in her life, and she’d heard rumors of bad things happening not far away from the village recently as well. There had been rumors of wizards and sorcerers making promises that no sane person would believe. Some of the young men of the village had ventured out and never returned. 

Gildor told her that there were bad creatures in the world and she should always be on her guard. She seemed grateful for the advice and even smiled a big toothless smile for him. 

“We don’t see many elveses here. They say a king of elveses lives not too far away.” She looked at Gildor for confirmation. 

He nodded. “He does. I am his kinsman and Erestor is in his service. We ride to Rivendell to visit another of our kin.” He used Rivendell because men often referred to Elrond’s refuge as such. 

“I have heard tell that elf has a fair town with many people of all kinds there. Is that true?” 

Erestor thought to himself she knew quite a lot for an old woman in the middle of nowhere.  
“It is, m’lady. There are Men as well as elves in his fair city.” 

“Maybe someday I’ll venture out that way. Think he’d let an ugly old woman like me into his fine town?”

Gildor smiled. “You are aged, m’lady, but not ugly. I can tell by your bones that you were quite the beauty when you were younger. You also have quite lovely children, if little Agenilda is an example. But we all know that wisdom is more important than beauty. I think Elrond would be happy to welcome such a venerable woman as you to his city.”

Erestor almost kicked him beneath the table. 

After dinner, Gildor insisted on helping her clean up then he and Erestor found a tavern for a few pints before they went to bed. The men in the tavern were quiet and polite, pretending not stare but not very good at it. 

“Why did you tell her that Elrond would welcome her to his city?” Erestor asked.

“Because he would. Elrond welcomes all who come for the right reasons. Imladris is a beautiful place and will be even more so soon.” Erestor thought he must have meant because of the autumn colors. 

They stayed in the village a few days before heading out to Bree and beyond. Gildor spent time talking to the old grey bearded men at the tavern and helped the old woman with some repairs around her cottage. He gave the healer some herbs he was lacking from his own supply. Erestor told stories of elven history to the children, who loved the tales of such magical beings. He helped their hostess with her laundry and helped her son chop wood for her warmth in the coming winter. 

When they left, the whole town turned out to tell them goodbye. Little Agenilda gave both elves a big hug and a kiss as they mounted their horses to go. 

Erestor asked Gildor why they had stayed so long. 

“Well, we found out that they were not bothered by the war with Sauron last time. We also know that someone or something is venturing out this way, enticing the young men to leave the town. I suspect it is an agent of evil. But one never knows that for sure.”

Bree was only little more than a day’s ride from the village so they stayed there one night. Gildor played and sang for the denizens of the tavern in Bree. It was called _The Prancing Pony_ and there were many men drinking there. The barmaids seemed quite taken with the dashing elf. Erestor was a little jealous of the buxom redhead who sat in Gildor’s lap a while before the evening ended. 

Erestor was amazed with how at ease and at home Gildor was with all they met. He sometimes felt ill at ease around elves, not to mention humans. 

They camped the rest of the way to Imladris, sleeping in bedrolls beside the fire, if they dared build one. They hunted small game to roast over a spit and drank wine from the skins that Gildor had refilled in Bree. 

The trick to visiting Imladris lay in knowing where to find it and that was something Gildor knew. They went down a few almost imperceptible roads and came out in a clearing and there it was: All they need do was walk their horses across the shallow ford at the right place on the River Bruinen and there they were, the Last Homely House, nestled in the foothills of the Hithaeglir. The entire city was awash in the golds, oranges and reds of full autumn. Waterfalls, large and small, tumbled from the sheer cliffs that rose in the distance.

“Oh my!” Erestor didn’t know what he had expected but this was beyond anything he’d imagined. “It is beautiful!” 

Gildor grinned. “Wait ‘til you see it all!” 

“Don’t you dare tell Elrond I was so impressed!” 

“My lips are sealed.” 

Elrond must have been made aware that they were arriving because he met them as they rode into the main courtyard. 

“Gildor! So good to see you! And Erestor! How did he get you away from the king?” 

“The king bade us come here,” Erestor answered. 

“Come inside. I’m sure we can scare up some food and drink for you both.” He motioned for two young elves to take their horses. 

They followed him into the Last Homely House. He took them a short tour, showing Erestor his library and the Hall of Fire. He had food brought and they sat by the fire, sipping mulled wine and eating several tasty treats made by arguably the best cooks in Middle-earth. 

After the food and wine, Erestor felt calmer than he had since leaving home. He was glad he had been included in this trip. Imladris was far more beautiful than he imagined it would be. He even found it good to see Elrond again, finally forgiving him for leaving the king’s service. 

After they finished their repast, Gildor asked Erestor to take a walk around the grounds with him.

“I don’t think I have ever seen such blue skies as here,” Erestor said as they walked through the apple orchard. The autumn fruit was ripe and apples dotted the trees as they strolled beneath them. 

“I told you it was beautiful here.”

“So will you tell me why we are really here?” Erestor knew they had not come for the scenery alone.

“Yes. I will tell you now. I have come here to give something very important to Elrond. It will aid him in keeping his haven safe from the encroaching darkness. Sauron will never accept defeat. You know that as well as I do. As well as the king does.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside lay a ring with a deep blue stone. 

Erestor gasped aloud. It was one of the Three, made by Celebrimbor and imbued with power uncorrupted by the One Ring. He knew that Gil-galad had one, maybe two of them, but he had no idea what they looked like. 

“It looks magical,” he told Gildor, trying to sound neutral. 

Gildor kissed his cheek. “Don’t try to fool me. I know that you are aware of what this is.”

“Why Elrond? Why now?” 

“Gil-galad would not say why. He simply insisted.”

“Where are the others? Are there not three of them?”

“Galadriel has one but the location of the third one, I do not know.”

“Does he know?”

“Elrond? Perhaps, he does have the seeing and sometimes knows of things before they come to pass. He probably won’t tell us one way or another.”

Gildor closed the box and put the ring back in his pocket. 

“After the last war with Sauron, we know that dark times are coming, that the war will be to finish someday. This ring and the other two will perhaps help the side of right and of the free peoples of our lands.”

Erestor looked alarmed. “Do you think those times come soon?”

Gildor nodded and took Erestor’s hand. “Enough of that. We are alone in this beautiful place and you haven’t even stolen an apple yet!” He reached up and plucked a bright red one from a branch as they passed under it. 

Polishing it on his shirt, he handed it to Erestor. “A treat, my love?”

The apple was juicy and sweet. Erestor sighed in happiness as he ate it. Gildor had plucked one for himself as well. 

“When will you give it to him?” 

“Tonight, after we dine and all have retired. You and I shall ask him if we can speak in his library.”

“You and the king are sneaky!” Erestor teased him. 

Gildor winked and put his arm through Erestor’s as they walked. “You have no idea, my love.” 

Erestor, many years later, remembered this exchange and wondered what Gildor had really meant.

The evening meal was sumptuous and grand, a meal fit for a king. Young Lindir played for them after dinner. The young musician was not far over fifty but was already a master musician. After several songs, he was joined by several others and the dancing began. It was late when everyone finally left for their own homes and beds. 

“Elrond, we must speak before we retire,” Gildor said as the servants cleared the room.

“Can it wait?”

“It can but I’d prefer it not.”

Gildor was the only person Erestor knew who could handle Elrond and get his own way. Even Gil-galad was not as successful. 

Elrond nodded. 

Gildor herded Elrond toward his library and, once there, had him pour them all a brandy.

“Now what is so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Gildor took the box out and opened it. “I have been tasked by the king to see that this, the Ring of Air, is placed upon your finger.” He took the ring out of the box and reached for Elrond’s hand, sliding it on his finger. 

“Why? Why now?” Elrond asked.

“The king believes that war will come to us soon, a brutal long war against Sauron and his darkness and your home will be a safe haven to many. You will need this ring to protect it and them.”

“Will he not need it?” 

Gildor smiled sadly. “I do not know. He does not say. Use it well and protect it well.”

“What about you? Do you know anything about it?” Elrond looked to Erestor.

“I did not know why we came here until this afternoon. I am as in the dark as you are.”

Elrond nodded solemnly. “Very well then. I shall do my best to live up to his request.” 

Gildor nodded. They drank to the king. 

Erestor wondered if the other two felt the same sense of foreboding that he did at this moment. He felt that Gil-galad knew something they did not. The king and Círdan were wiser than he usually gave them credit for most of the time. Maybe they just wanted to be prepared for the worst, no matter what. 

They drank a few more toasts and went to bed. 

*

If anyone noticed Elrond’s new ring, no one said anything. Erestor and Gildor stayed at the Last Homely House until the first snow in December. It was a welcome chance for Erestor to be with Gildor and one of the longest periods of time they’d ever spent together at one time.

When the time came to leave, Erestor found himself wanting to stay. He loved the place and he thought perhaps he could be of use to Elrond in the running of the hidden city. He would talk to the king when they got home. He needed to be of use and he was not very busy in Mithlond these days.

He and Gildor stopped at villages and towns on the way home. They stopped to visit Estrith and her great-granddaughter. Gildor told the old woman all about the city of Rivendell. 

“I’d love to see it!”

“You will. In a day or two, an elf will come. He will give you a token like this.” He showed her a drawing of a small ring with his name on it. “Pack up and go with him. Take your great-granddaughter and her family with you. Lord Elrond is expecting you.” 

“Am I to be his servant?” 

“No, you will be his guest for as long as you wish to stay.” 

Erestor was as amazed as Estrith was. “When did you do this?”

Gildor shrugged. “While you were asleep.” 

Erestor hugged him, thinking he’d never loved Gildor more than right now. 

*

Estrith did go to Imladris, where she lived out her life in luxury and comfort. She spent many hours with Elrond, teaching him the ways of healing the diseases of Men and many more hours teaching the cook how to cook her special dishes. Agenilda grew up there as well, surrounded by her family and her doting great-grandmother. Many years later, she was a great healer and comfort to her people when war did come to their little village. 

Erestor moved to Imladris a year later, where he became one of Lord Elrond’s chief advisors. Gildor wandered through as often as he could, never able to completely give up his gypsy life. 

Gil-galad died in the Battle of Dagorlad, the last battle of the War of the Last Alliance. Sauron was defeated once again, but not destroyed. He did, however, lose the One Ring and with it, his corporeal form as well as his power.

The Ring was not destroyed but hid itself, waiting…

But that, my friends, is a story for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> A note about the dances:  
> I wanted to name dances and figured that the best source might be Elizabethan era dances so Google and Youtube gave me the Pavane. You can see several examples at Youtube. The Jigs and Hornpipes are more common dances of the lower classes. They evolved into the Irish and Scottish dances of today as well as American Clog dancing and Flatfooting. You can find examples of these as well on Youtube. 
> 
> Gildor's spy and assassin skills come from hearing several fictional and real stories of hired assassins being able to blend in so much that they aren't really noticed.


End file.
